we're on the other side
of the fence

and yes
it is what they say it was

but not quite what we thought
it was going to be

people tend to exaggerate
and fabricate

building suspension
and tension

when they are waiting
for something

they should have seized
long ago

Somewhere
between red and yellow

Albuquerque and Amarillo
we've run the gamut

you and I
the spectrum

hot and cold
happy and sad

and now
we've settled in the middle

just west of melancholy
with a little bit of rust

around the edges

Deja vu
maybe

in any case
we've been here before

muddy waters
dull days

murky
uncertain future

a crossroads
and all that

A youth
that I'd like to think
was better spent

but so much time
got lost in a flurry
of white noise and fuzz

I say we'll always
have Christmas
not quite Paris

but
close enough
for drinks and cigars

never having to say
you're sorry

but I am
regrets

they hang on me
like tinsel

it's always been
my brother

not me
who could mix up the paint

saw the boards
hammer home the nails

and pour the 'crete
so to speak

and bless him
for doing all that I have never

been able to do
and for being able

to pull me from my own
abstractions

to show me
again

how to clean the roller
and the brushes

and preserve
what others have done

before us

Mason
a skilled worker

who lays units
of substantial material

stone
or maybe brick

spreading mortar
like butter on toast

building one upon
another

you are a quality
a power

to determine action
without restraint

whit howland © 2021

they're glossy
postcards

of places along the road
like a jugular vein

that roped us in
and trapped us but not really

we loved the diversions

zoo animals fudge knives civil war  plates
fiddle players

and most of all
a skillet of ham and throwed rolls

all lozenges
for a feverish mind and a heartsick soul

whit howland © 2021

hands
no wind

we throw
caution to

hands
be they good

or bad

is something
we will never know

There will be blood
there will be sweat
and there'll be a fountain of tears

but the picture is worth
more words
than I 'll ever give you

the missing piece
find it

and you've finished
the puzzle

whit howland © 2021

Crisp
apple cider air

October
it's finally here

leaves
and other things

at the end
of their string

with acceptance
comes dignity

honor
and most surely

peace

whit howland © 2021

or over ice
or crashing to shore

aged Old Spice
and a ship

wrecked
on a faraway reef


whit howland © 2021

on a cocktail napkin
in smudged felt tip

how much what
do I have to do

I dig and I dig
so deep

and if I reached China
would my efforts be

rewarded

whit howland © 2021

A wilting rose
suspended in red-tinged water
in a vase

fingers plinking
yellowed ivory keys
with reverb coming through the speakers

so much to be said but
let's not kid ourselves
nothing was ever said

and it doesn't matter anymore
no hard feelings
but that's not really true

if there's already
a hardened heart
and

a plastic smile
an off-key voice
equals

a jar full of crumpled
dollar bills

whit howland © 2021

A jar of jelly beans
red yellow purple
and green

follow
follow
follow
follow

follow the bouncing
red ball

gray  clouds
rain showers
a goldfish flopping

on the wet pavement

whit howland © 2021

old
chipped
and brown

green grass
has grown-up
all around it

the inscription
rubbed off so
so long ago

a still life a stiff breeze
people are  just dying
to get in here

respect
for the dead
is not what we are told

that it is

laughter
still lives here
and travels

to the beyond

whit howland © 2021

Trigger pulled
a shot rings out

the race

is on
ragged breath in time

with foot over foot
and the clock

ticks

whit howland © 2021

Fire engine
candy apple
cherry

red

two little bells
perched atop
with shaky hands

tick tock
tick tock
tick

RING
RING
SMASH

the time is here
the dye
has been cast

arise
arrival
my wife

your husband
a long
and happy life

whit howland © 2021

Melting
as if dripping

off the table
silver beads rolling

across the floor
where

where have you been
all of my life

the Elks Club Toledo
Ohio

is this anything
if it is

it's all in the delivery
and timing

time they say time flies
flies

when you are having
fun

but you seem to have gone
by bus

whit howland © 2021

twice a day
and I'm such a broken man

unwind
rewind

set back
turn back

be a dad
what a joke

pull my finger
my string

yank
my chain

whit howland © 2021

Total
absence of light

roiling
boiling

churning black clouds
your wicked flowers

being watered with biting
drops of rain

This is as much about me
as it is you

our erratic rhythms
giving original meaning

to a Harlequin Romance
as we both run

like hamsters on a wheel
or better

around like rats in a crazy box
trying to navigate life

whit howland © 2021

Delicate
and powdery
across your surface

special
precious
timely

flower you are
cultivated
for your beauty

pure
good
divine

what we produce
is better late
than never

whit howland © 2021

The glass of my mask
is clear though foggy

at the edges

as I often dream
of turquoise waters

where I splash dive
and roll with

zany  shelled creatures
paddling by my nose

as white sand between my toes
floats up to the surface

it's hard to know where life
is going

I am told there's a plan
and a God who executes it

and with a vision like this
could it be

he's telling me to trust
what I see when I'm fast asleep

and that the plan is something
not to overthink

it's possible

whit howland © 2021

Failures
mine or those that I own

your assignment
lean

lean into the storm
roll

roll with the waves
the punches

and let the metaphors run
like blood and tears

down your cheek

and mix like paint
and mix like paint

A slash of red
on white canvas

aggression maybe
war

might is right
so clear

and pure

lots of kicking and screaming
but

I know that now

whit howland © 2021

Packed in bunches
resting in a pewter bowl

a still life

yet ripe juicy
and rich

to blossom

produce flowers mass flowers
whites reds

and violets

whit howland © 2021

What I might buy
for a dollar or a dime

some cheap petameter
or a bad rhyme

about

love passion
or betrayal

something
like that

maybe more lurid
and purple

on days like these
all we can muster

is a piece or a scrap
of morale in a glass

served with a joke
corny or crass

or even worse
a  bad pun

inner space
between the ears

wind blowing
through a screen door

maybe chimes
in the distance



whit howland © 2021

sprinkled with the petals
of roses

much like ours that have crossed
throughout the span of time

the paths are dirt
where they diverge

with some flourish here and there
but mostly hardscrabble

making travel bumpy
and rough

shallow
not deep
simple
not complicated

there was fog
this morning
but it's burned off

so it seems

A child's garden
of simple verse

tone rhythm
cadence

so magic but
slowly

moving
into shorter days

longer
nights

whit howland © 2021

The sun shines so early
this morning

but your face reads cloudy
with a chance of smiting rain

what do we do where
do we go from here

I've taken this journey
with you before

almost
to the point of no return

whit howland © 2021

To my ears go
your cute little snores

and to my eyes
your hair peeking out

from under the covers
I watch our cats(our kids)

eat from their labeled dishes
and I laugh

for hours

whit howland © 2021

This morning
outside my window

a hummingbird

****** nectar into its beak
as if through a straw
from the feeder hanging from
the edge of my house

Peter Frampton
sings "I'm in You"
coming from the tinny speaker
of an old phonograph on an oak desk in my den

these are not my clothes
hanging in my closet
that smells of cedar bark
they are not my size and they are not

my style

whit howland © 2021

what once was brown
with hairs and crawled on the ground

became

not before our very eyes
but

when we were not looking
a kaleidoscopic

butterfly

things don't change
they just evolve into

what they already
were becoming

whit howland © 2021

Flowers
the purple ones
impatients

they didn't make it
the rain and all the watering
couldn't save them

this summer you
went away then returned
and I thought you were back

but then you left again

the flowers
the purple ones
impatients

all the rain
and all the watering
couldn't save them

whit howland © 2021

We stand
under a blood orange sunset

to watch day after day
fade into night

I've been a lot of things to you
I never meant to be

so if you just settled on me
all those years ago

that's okay

A handwritten letter a licked
stamp

old fashioned
yes

but not outdated
yet post-dated

with the red metal flag
pointing

to the sky and burning
like an Olympic torch

in anticipation
of your triumphal

return

whit howland © 2021

A shiny ribbon
some glitter

paper folded
precisely

edges taped
concealment

mystery
suspense

the best gift
you ever gave us

was and always will be
each other

whit howland © 2021

a small thin piece
of fur

maybe bunched
but just enough

to say
you were there

stayed awhile
and then slinked

off into the day
the wind

jingling
your tiny bells

an almost inaudible
announcement

of your
departure

whit howland © 2021

Sun's rays
pierce

the bronchial
latticework

of the bare trees
in late Fall

leaving me with
windless and limp sails

whit howland © 2021

Morning
sunshine

and clear eyes to see clearly
to pick up

the twigs
and branches

off the front lawn
of my neighbor's yard

whit howland © 2021

Bundle
of newsprint

in the driveway
on Sunday

thunder
up and chunder

whirlwind
funnel cloud

life and pages
now torn

asunder

whit howland © 2021

Jazz Hands
and I don't know why

my life at twenty-nine
already was a ball of rubber bands

some wisdom and words
to live by

don't challenge the Grim Reaper
to a pillow fight

unless you are prepared
for reaper cushions

outside there are clouds
the sky is steel gray

there's a threat
albeit an existential one

of rain
but the parade goes on

whit howland © 2021

It starts with a dark and stormy
night

then you are everywhere
but nowhere

bus depot
airport train station

I suspect you are alone
I could be wrong but I know I'm not

if you can hear me
riddle me this

what do you call
an exploding monkey

a baboom

you are everywhere out there
somewhere

and I will keep sending up
flares

whit howland © 2021

Purple streaks across
sky no white
canvas

flowers
smudged against blue
and brown

bronze blobs descending
down the wall on a chain
supposed to be a rope

they say madness
is never expressed
with wide eyes and crazy laughter

but always with a constantly
flushing toilet
and endless sobs

coming from the room
next door
to the rhythm of bad bed springs

whit howland © 2021

The damage is done
my love

and I understand that your forgiveness
won't be forthcoming

and all I can say to explain
is this

what I did I did under
duress

and it may be hard to comprehend
that I only meant to protect you

it is a concept I fear will be forever
lost at sea


whit howland © 2021

pleasure
is my measure

stepping foot by foot
loose change falling

from my pockets
like manna

that dropped from the sky
so so long ago

whit howland © 2021

Pallet of green
brown
gray

obstructed
destruct
construct

strange things
kaleidoscopically
arranged

natural
literal
and metaphysical